


Evidence in action

by Eloarei



Series: Day on the Horizon [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Post-Canon, Threats of Violence, super melodrama 64
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: Fawkes is kind, and sweet, and most importantly he is not a threat. But some of the people in Megaton don't see that. They want evidence that he won't turn into arealmonster. They don't realize that the evidence is that he chooses, every day.tl;dr: Addisson and Fawkes head back to Vault 87 to find what they know doesn't exist.
Relationships: Fawkes & Lone Wanderer, Fawkes/Female Lone Wanderer, Fawkes/Lone Wanderer
Series: Day on the Horizon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882009
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is a direct sequel to "A bit of perspective", but I guess you don't have to read that if you don't want to. It just continues the drama. To be perfectly honest, this fic is mostly a bridge between _houston we have conflict!_ and _now for the self-indulgence!_. It's getting a little long, so I'm splitting it between several chapters. Hopefully it won't take all year for me to finish it, pffft. Got like 6 more fics planned for the series _(how could this happen to meeee?)_ , so I've gotta hustle if I wanna get to the real tasty personally-relevant trauma!  
> As ever, thanks for reading; feedback appreciated!

The town of Megaton was very hospitable, in some ways. The high steel walls kept out all manner of threats, from raiders to low-lying dust storms. And there were resources too, even if most of them were traded for from outside, food and water usually available if you needed it (and were willing to pay). Most of all, there was safety in numbers, and Megaton was the biggest city in the Capital Wasteland, with the exception of Rivet City, which was too far away to be an easy alternative for most folks.   
  
But safety in numbers also tended to breed a pack mentality, and despite the townsfolk rarely agreeing on the finer points of life (such as: do we care that our tavern owner keeps a literal slave in his employ? The only thing most of them agreed on was that they didn’t want to think about it), the citizenry of the town was kind of like one big family. And whether they meant to or not, they tended to absorb each others’ values where it _apparently_ mattered.   
  
As arbiter of the town’s will, Sheriff Simms was the one who usually handled disputes and unrest. Addisson figured it was probably better this way, even though she hated to hear what Simms had to say, and thought it sounded like he wasn’t too keen on it either. But if it wasn’t Simms, it would be someone with less tact, someone less understanding.   
  
“Wanderer,” he called from across the walkway, leaned against a railing as Addisson was headed down to grab some lunch from the restaurant. She stopped, skipping in place a little as her stride was interrupted.   
  
“What’s up?” she asked. “No offense, but if you need me to fetch something do you think it can wait until after lunch? I accidentally skipped breakfast, so I’m starving.”   
  
Simms shook his head. “It’s not that.” He looked at her for a moment, obviously noticing that she wasn’t exactly in the mood for a chat, but he sighed. “Look, Wanderer. I appreciate everything you’ve done for this town.”   
  
Grimacing, Addisson stood up a fraction straighter, her attention caught by a bit of praise that too clearly was about to have a huge ‘but’ tacked onto it. She waited for Simms to go on.   
  
_“But,”_ he said, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “There are some people in town who aren’t… completely pleased with the company you keep.”   
  
“Bullshit,” was Addisson’s first reaction, the word quietly spilling from her mouth without her consent. But then the irritation started building up, like that word had broken a dam of annoyance. “No, that’s _bullshit._ You’re telling me--!” Holding her breath in anger, she glanced over each shoulder. She wasn’t sure who exactly she was on the lookout for, other than _anybody,_ but instinctively it was probably her companion, who should still be at home, waiting for lunch. “--You’re telling me that people are complaining about Fawkes? When we’ve got assholes like Moriarty and Jericho strutting around?”   
  
Simms definitely looked distinctly uneasy at her outburst, but he at least had the grace not to glance around like he was nervous or guilty. “I understand where you’re coming from. Really. And you’re right. Not everyone here is the most trustworthy sort. But they’ve been here a long time, and people aren’t afraid of them.”   
  
“Well they should be,” Addisson grumbled, knowing she sounded petulant but not caring. Not in front of Simms, anyway. He was one of the few people in town she didn’t really feel she had to keep a brave face for. “Fawkes wouldn’t hurt _anybody._ He has no reason to. He’s not trigger happy, and he doesn’t hold grudges.” ‘Unlike some people’ remained unsaid, but considering that she’d already name-dropped the two people she was definitely implicating, she didn’t feel like it was necessary. Anyway, Simms was not an idiot; he’d know.   
  
He frowned and held up his hands as if he wanted to shake her, or gesture far more wildly than his stoic position would allow. “Nobody knows that,” he told her, not indicating whether he believed her or not, which was his wont as a supposedly unbiased party. “He’s a mutant, and all anybody knows about mutants is that they’re usually the enemy.”   
  
_‘And slavers aren’t?’_ she wanted to ask, but continuing to bring up her two least favorite people in town probably wasn’t going to get her anywhere. “He’s helped defend Megaton a bunch of times!” she reminded him. “He’s not the enemy. He doesn’t even know how to _be_ an enemy! All anybody would have to do is talk to him for like half a minute to realize how _nice_ he is.”   
  
“I’m sure he is,” Simms said, but Addisson interrupted the rest of his sentence because she could tell he was just saying that to get her to calm down, and he didn’t actually care quite enough to examine his belief about whether Fawkes was nice or not.   
  
“He _is,”_ she insisted. “He’s not like the others. I told you, right? That I found him locked up in a vault?”   
  
Simms nodded slowly, like _‘sure. And?’_   
  
“The other mutants put him there,” Addisson told him, her brows drawn down in a frown. “Because he refused to help them kill and torture people. I’m telling you. He’s not like them.”   
  
A moment passed where Simms seemed to consider what she’d said, following all of her words to logical conclusions. “So he’s… what? A different breed? Created to be nonviolent?”   
  
Addisson sighed. “No,” she said, annoyed. “I think he’s just like that. It just… doesn’t seem fair to say it’s because of a design or a mutation. I think he’s kind because he _wants to be.”_   
  
Simms didn’t appear entirely convinced, or like maybe he wanted not to believe it. “So you don’t think there’s some evidence somewhere that he’s safe. Some research back in that vault?” He looked at Addisson like he was hoping to god she’d say yes, like if she said yes then they could stop having this conversation.   
  
“I mean…” Addisson scowled, thinking about what little she’d read of the scientists’ notes back in 87. She’d been on kind of an important mission, so yeah, she hadn’t exactly scoured the place for data that didn’t pertain to the GECK. Maybe there was more to be found, more information about different strains of FEV, or the results of their horrible testing process. Maybe, _maybe_ there was evidence that Fawkes was like that on purpose. But she seriously doubted it. And furthermore, she doubted that it would make a difference, even if any of the research were so explicit as to formally state that ‘the super mutant henceforth known as Fawkes was successfully designed to exemplify human empathy’. Would that really change people’s opinion of him so suddenly? Would they trust a scummy Vault Tec scientist any more than their own prejudices?   
  
“Addisson…” Simms began, startling her with the soft, serious tone and the use of her given name. “I know it’s not his fault, and it’s not your fault either, but he’s scaring people. I don’t think they’ll let him stick around much longer without some kind of proof that he’s safe. Maybe you could just go back and take a look, hm?”   
  
She stared at him, and she was darn glad that he wasn’t the judgemental type, because she was sure there was a hint of red in her prickling eyes, the uncomfortable tingling feeling building with her frustration. “That’s really what you want?” she asked.   
  
“It’s not about what I want, you know that.” Simms let out a deep breath that was almost a sigh, but didn’t carry quite the same level of exasperation. He was too used to doing things ‘for the good of the town’ to ever really be bothered by it anymore, on any but the deepest level.   
  
She wanted to tell him to screw off (or to tell the others that, anyway), but she respected his authority and the kindness with which he’d treated her before, so instead she said, “fine.” She didn’t feel like there was much other choice. “I don’t think I’ll find anything, but I guess it’s better than being driven out of town.”   
  
“Nobody’s asking _you_ to go,” Simms told her.   
  
“Might as well be,” Addisson mumbled. She didn’t bother explaining what that meant, her loyalty to her companions well-enough known for her feeling of betrayal to be pretty obvious.   
  
Simms just stared down at a rusted spot on the walkway, ruminating on the situation with apparent dissatisfaction. “Just do what you can, alright?” he asked, looking back up at her after determining that there was nothing else he could do. “If we’re lucky, the effort will be enough. And maybe you’ll find something after all.”   
  
Addisson would bet a good amount of caps that luck was not going to be enough to see this through, but it was a bet she wished she could lose.   
  
She barely saw anything on the way back to the house, walking along on autopilot while her mind simultaneously blanked and ran wild. The click of the door shutting wasn't enough to snap her out of it, but Fawkes' rumbling voice was. 

"Was there a problem at the restaurant?" he asked, likely noting that Addisson had come home empty handed-- a fact that had completely escaped her until he brought it to attention. 

Her mouth fell open in surprise as she remembered what she'd gone out for in the first place. "Oh, uh, no. I got distracted talking to Simms." 

"What did he want to talk about?" 

Addisson grimaced but tried to rein the expression in. "Uh, nothing really. Just some idiots complaining about… town security." 

Fawkes hummed. "I could volunteer to take a patrol shift." 

Feeling her eyebrows drift down over the corners of her eyes, she looked up at Fawkes with a sad smile she hoped he wouldn't identify. "That's nice of you," she said softly. She didn't try to encourage or discourage him. 

He slotted an old dollar bill into the book he was reading and set it aside as he stood. "Do you want me to go down and get lunch for you?" he asked, clearly wondering if she was too tired for the simple task. 

Despite the sadness leaving her with a lingering melancholy, Addisson was suddenly struck with fear at the thought of Fawkes going out by himself, and she gritted her teeth. "No, no, it's fine. I'm actually, I'm just gonna make something here, I think." 

Fawkes was obviously not sure that there wasn't something going on, but he kindly didn't mention it. "I'll help," he said instead, ducking into the small kitchen to gather some water for whatever might need boiling. 

It was a little too late to go out that day-- still several hours before nightfall but not quite enough time to reach vault 87, let alone make it back. Tomorrow, Addisson decided. Tonight they would stay in, locked inside the house with their dog and their robot butler, and anyone who was upset that Fawkes was still around could just suck it. 

The hardest part of the evening was pretending she was okay, but at least Fawkes (despite his caring nature, or perhaps because of it) was too respectful to pry, and Addisson managed to keep her vague anxiety locked down while they had dinner, played a few card games, and discussed Fawkes' latest favorite novel. Quiet and warm, it was the sort of evening that would have been really nice if it truly belonged just to them, without the distant presence of judgmental neighbors. 

At least, Addisson supposed, they probably wouldn't have to worry about them much longer. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going to Little Lamplight," Addisson said in the morning, emerging into the living room to find Fawkes grooming Dogmeat again. (That dog surely had the nicest coat in America, given how much attention Fawkes put to it.) She cocked her head to the side when he looked up at her. "Wanna go?" 

She knew that he would, because Fawkes never didn't want to go wherever Addisson was going, but she figured this was the safest way of asking: to state her own intentions and let him decide his own course. If she'd just asked if he wanted to go to Lamplight without prefacing that she was going regardless, he stood a chance of asking _why._ Unfortunately, the night hadn't graced her with any good excuses or ways to explain the situation without probably hurting him. 

"Of course I'll accompany you," Fawkes responded, though he continued the grooming routine, guessing rightly that Addisson wasn't quite ready to go yet. It wouldn't do to disappoint their vanguard with a lack of brushies, and the boss still had to gather her not-insignificant amount of gear. 

After a quick breakfast (for the three of them; Fawkes had taken to eating _at least_ one square meal, at Addisson's insistence), they headed out. Simms gave them a terse nod on their way out, and Addisson responded with a mostly neutral look. Fawkes, trailing behind her, didn't notice the silent exchange. 

Once they were out on the open road, a lot of the tension melted from Addisson's shoulders. This was familiar territory: wandering with her two favorite people in the world, surrounded by the dry, rocky landscape of the Capital. This was comfortable to her. If Dogmeat barked at radroaches and Fawkes mused about the buildings they passed, or if they traveled in silence, it was still her favorite place to be. The only thing that diminished the calming effect was knowing they were out there for a reason, and that that reason was only barely of her own deciding. 

They were just about within sight of the Lamplight cave's entrance when Fawkes asked, almost entirely innocently, "What business do we have today?" 

Although she wanted to spare him, Addisson couldn't ever lie to Fawkes outright; not about important things anyway, or things that _had_ answers. She swallowed and glanced at him before looking back in the direction of their destination. "Actually I have to go back into the vault." 

"Why would you want to go back in that horrible place?" he asked, and though Addisson wasn't looking at him, she could hear the frown in the way his voice creaked. 

She stopped walking, figuring it was only right to look at her companion when she relayed cruel gossip to him. "Simms said…" She took a breath as the words organized themselves on her tongue. "Simms said some people in Megaton came to him with… concerns, about you." 

The hard lines of Fawkes' face softened slightly. "So that's why you've been distressed lately. The townsfolk's fear has gotten to you?" 

"I'm not afraid of you," she promised, stepping forward so she could grab one of his large yellow-green hands and squeeze it lightly. "I'm not, I swear to god. If I'm afraid at all it's of… of what they'll do if they, if they don't get their heads out of their asses!" 

Fawkes almost smiled at Addisson's impassioned lapse in propriety. "Did the Sheriff indicate that there was any danger?" he asked. 

"Not exactly," Addisson replied. "But I've heard people talking before. Simms just made the problem official. And… probably better that he did, I guess. Just so I could stop watching our backs." 

A sigh escaped Fawkes, mostly out his partly open mouth. "I had hoped you would avoid hearing the worst commentary." 

_'The worst?'_ Addisson stared up at him, face a bit pinched. "You've heard…?" She groaned, covering her eyes. She wasn't going to _cry,_ she swore, but knowing that Fawkes was already aware of how people talked about him, and he'd bore it silently for… how long? Months, maybe? What, was he just planning to put up with it forever? 

"I felt it was a small price to pay," Fawkes said, "for staying close to you." 

Okay, _maybe_ she was going to cry. Her lip trembled a bit despite her efforts. "That's dumb as shit," she said, eyes wide, frown exaggerated. "You don't have to _pay_ for that. I _want_ you to stay with me. And those assholes? They don't even deserve a capful of your respect." 

She sort of wanted to end with _'so there'_ or something equally psuedo-definitive, but she clamped her mouth shut instead. 

Fawkes covered their joined hands with his other. "I counted myself lucky that I could stay at all. The town must have much respect for you, to put up with me for so long." 

With a soft sniffle, Addisson countered, "I think they're just cowards. Too afraid to say anything to my face, so they had Simms do it." 

The mutant looked off in the short distance, to where the cave lay. "What did he say to you that would make you want to return here?" 

Addisson grumbled, mad at the entirety of Megaton for ever saying anything that she hesitated repeating in front of her companion. But she couldn't lie to him. She sighed. "Simms thought maybe if we found some kind of research about you that it might calm people down. That, y'know, they'd trust you enough if there was some data or something that proved you… you know. That you weren't gonna become like the others." 

Fawkes' face returned to the soft grimace that had always been his default expression-- but only now did Addisson realize it was no longer the default. The underlying structure of his face remained the same, but his skin was stretched just a little less tight across the bones and muscles. Maybe the extra food and water rations were making a difference, or maybe it was the sleep she insisted he get. His default expression had become something more like a thoughtful pause: lips slightly parted, as if always just a moment away from a clever retort. So the fact that he _was_ grimacing now meant more than it had a few weeks ago. 

"I very much doubt we'll find anything, but if searching is the key to our continued cohabitation, we can certainly try." 

"Oh," Addisson said, her lips remaining pursed a long moment. "No, I, I didn't mean you had to come with me! You could just wait out here or, I dunno, whatever you want. I don't wanna make you go back in there." 

“If it’s for my benefit, then you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”   
  
Shrugging, Addisson said, “I mean, I’ll have Dog with me.”   
  
A laugh rumbled up from Fawkes’ chest, and Addisson was unsure what he had to laugh about for a short moment. “Impressive that you’ve taught Dogmeat to read,” he said, his eyes softly mocking. “But I’m already much more familiar with the terminal system and its network.”   
  
He wasn’t saying that Addisson couldn’t do it herself, just correctly implying that it would be easier if she had help. Or maybe he was saying that he wanted a chance to look for it as well, rather than leaving his fate to someone else. She could have asked him, but his reasoning for wanting to go with her didn’t really matter. If he wanted to go, she’d be happy for him to, even if she’d always expected he’d want to avoid the place like the plague (not that a plague was much threat to a mutant).   
  
She laughed softly at his Dogmeat joke, and then responded sort of lamely, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I mean, I guess you are.” It would have been more fun (and maybe more her usual style) to carry on with the joke, but in her mind she’d already moved so far past it and into serious territory, that goofing around just wasn’t as intuitive as it often was.   
  
Fawkes could see that. He nodded towards the cave. “Then shall we go?” he asked, taking the first step for once instead of letting Addisson lead the way. She figured maybe just this time he wanted to show her his resolve on the matter.   
  
Just outside the mouth of the cave, Addisson got in front of Fawkes. However gung-ho he might be about getting back in there, he probably wouldn’t prefer the delay they’d face if all the Lamplight kids got riled up because whoever was on gate duty freaked out at seeing a super mutant without some sort of forewarning. They lived in frighteningly close proximity to a den of them, but it was one thing knowing they were on the other side of the back wall, and another to see one strolling in the front door.   
  
Dogmeat dashed in ahead of them, always happy to see kids or anyone who might give him a little extra scritching. It was probably the best icebreaker they could have asked for, because the two girls guarding the gate were almost completely distracted by the time they approached. Almost. They did raise their guns as they noticed the two ‘mungos’, but lowered them slightly as they realized that Addisson was familiar. (It was the red hair and cute dog combo.) They eyed Fawkes suspiciously, but didn’t immediately try to shoot him, which was enough.   
  
“Hi,” Addisson said, waving awkwardly to show she wasn’t currently armed. “Um, I’ve met you two before, haven't I?”   
  
“Wanderer, right?” one of them asked, stowing her gun back in its holster. “And Dogmeat. I remember.”   
  
(Addisson didn’t bother correcting her. A lot of people called her Wanderer, like they thought that was actually her name because that was what they heard on the radio. It wasn’t a bad nickname, at least.)   
  
She grinned, glad that the girls weren’t too scared. “Me and my friend were hoping to get back into the vault,” she told them. They exchanged an unsure look, so she added, “MacCready. He’s still the mayor, right?”   
  
The name-drop was apparently enough to get them through. The girl still holding her gun nodded and moved to unlock the front gate. Addisson totally expected the young guard to shut the gate between her and Fawkes, but she nodded both of them through, and then reluctantly let Dogmeat follow with a last wistful pet.   
  
“Thanks!” Addisson called, winding her way toward the back of the cavern, where the door to Vault 87 lay.   
  
As they wound their way through the maze-like paths of the caves, Addisson noted that they were being given slightly less wide of a berth than she expected. The kids stood back to let them pass, but they only shrunk back enough not to be in their way, and watched curiously as they moved by. They weren’t openly welcoming, but a lack of paranoid suspicion was warm enough, especially when she thought about why they were here in the first place.   
  
There were two kids guarding the back gate, but they looked like they’d been lazing around until they caught sight of their mungo guests. They threw down their hands of playing cards and scrambled for their guns, but didn’t ready them.   
  
“Whatcha want?” a young boy called from up on the makeshift guard tower. He looked more as if he was trying to maintain the image of being a good guard than actually concerned about their motives.   
  
“We need through to the vault,” Addisson said, gesturing with her chin to the cave that she knew was hidden just behind the big gate. “It’s kind of important.”   
  
The boy frowned and looked at his companion, who shrugged and shook their head. Then he turned back to them and shook his head too. “I’m not s’posed to open it. Not ‘nless the mayor says.”   
  
Addisson sighed and glanced back at Fawkes, who didn’t have any immediate suggestions for how to handle uncooperative children. “Well, do you know where he is?” she called up to the little guards.   
  
The boy’s companion hummed into the edge of their big coat. “He’s probably hiding out with Lucy,” they said. “By the clinic. But don’t tell him we said!”   
  
“Nobody’s s’posed to know.” The boy tried to hide his mischievous smile, but mostly failed. “He gets embarrassed whenever anyone says he likes her.”   
  
“I can keep a secret,” Addisson said, matching the boy’s smile. MacCready had been such a little hardass before, she was excited to know he’d gotten himself a girlfriend. Adolescent stuff like that made young teenagers a lot easier to relate to than little kids, and easier to manipulate (you know, nicely) since it made them so predictable.   
  
They didn’t catch the mayor and his girlfriend kissing (which was a shame, because then MacCready would have owed them for their vow of silence), but the two thirteen-year-olds did startle away from each other as the wanderer and her companion came upon them. (They were sans Dogmeat, having lost him to some scritchies a little ways back.)   
  
“Don’t come any fucking closer!” MacCready yelled, drawing his rifle with impressive speed, apparently before his brain had a chance to catch up with his eyes. His stiff posture loosened almost immediately as recognition set in. “Oh, it’s you.” He glanced over at Lucy and then scooted another foot or two away from her, now that he realized he had to protect their reputations and not just their lives. “Well, what the hell do you want?”   
  
Having a gun poised to take her head off was a pretty common occurrence, so Addisson wasn’t rattled. Mostly she was allowing herself to be pleased that the other kids were right about Mayor Mac’s infatuation. (Honestly, it wasn’t even a little bit important to her, but it was nice to have some other kind of feeling to focus on than dread.) “Maybe I just wanted to say hello?” she offered with a shrug, because MacCready just seemed like the sort who needed to be riled up a little bit before you got to the point.   
  
He sneered at her, but it wasn’t anywhere as vicious as it probably could have been. “Yeah. Right. I’ll believe that when brahmin fly.” In a move that surprised her, MacCready turned away from Addisson and addressed Fawkes instead. _“You’re_ a little less fucking hideous than last time you were here.”   
  
Addisson bristled. “Hey, excuse me, you little shit--!” she started, but it was just background noise to Fawkes’ own response, and she cut herself off quickly so she could listen to him.   
  
“Thank you,” he said graciously to the moody little mayor, grinning gently. “I’m honored that you remember me at all.”   
  
MacCready scoffed, seemingly disgusted with the compliment. “Tch, of course I remember every stupid mungo that comes through, _especially_ ugly fucking muties. It’s Fox, right? And your _girlfriend,_ Addisson. See, I’m not an _idiot.”_   
  
It was an immature gibe, so Addisson just rolled her eyes. She was more interested in what _else_ MacCready had said. “I didn’t know you’ve been here before,” she said up at Fawkes, tilting her head in question.   
  
“Just after we first met,” Fawkes told her. “After you were taken by the Enclave soldiers, I tried to find you.”   
  
That was… Well, it wasn’t _news_ to her, because she knew Fawkes had attempted to rescue her, but aside from showing up after her escape from Raven Rock, she hadn’t really thought about what else the rescue attempt might have entailed. She guessed it sort of made sense that Fawkes had encountered the Lamplight kids.   
  
“And we almost blew his brains out,” MacCready told Addisson, sounding proud of himself. “So consider yourself lucky I was feeling generous that day.”   
  
“Huh. I guess that’s why none of the kids are really scared of you,” Addisson said to Fawkes. It was a piece of the puzzle that she hadn’t known she was missing.   
  
Fawkes nodded, but said, “Or perhaps children are just more forgiving of presumed misdeeds.”   
  
That was definitely possible too. She was hopeful it was true and that it might apply to Lamplight's industrious mayor in this particular instance. "Would you happen to be feeling generous today too?" she asked him. 

MacCready scowled at her, which seemed to mostly mean he was paying attention. "Obviously," he drawled. "Or you'd be dead already. Now tell me what you want before my generosity runs out." 

"We need inside the vault again," Addisson said without further preamble. 

The silence only stretched long enough to be considered a pause, before MacCready said, "Fine. But the muties have started moving back in, so don't blame me if you get your arms ripped off, 'cuz I warned you." 

"I think we can handle it," Addisson replied, instinctively glancing toward Fawkes. (She didn't catch his eye though, as he'd retreated a step behind her again once the trigger happy Mac no longer seemed a threat.)   
  
MacCready gave her a sarcastic look. "Uh huh. I bet." 

Obviously MacCready was keen on them continuing on their merry way so he could get back to pretending he didn't have a crush, but his girlfriend clearly had more social aptitude than he did. 

"What are you going in for?" Lucy asked, glancing between the adults. 

"Um," Addisson said, pretty sure she wasn't going to explain that they were looking for Fawkes' only hope of defeating prejudice. They were pretty prejudiced little kids themselves, the Lamplighters. 

But Fawkes knew what to say. Maybe he'd already had the excuse prepared. "We're searching for scientific research," he told the girl, in his low, calm inside voice. "Something to help the town where Addisson lives." 

Lucy's eyes lit up. "I can always use more medical supplies and research. If you find anything, will you let me know please?"   
  
Addisson hadn’t really had a chance to talk to Lucy, but she was pleasantly surprised that the girl was polite (and apparently diligent in her duties as the town’s doctor). Fawkes was also pleased. “Of course,” he said, nodding his head. “I don’t think we’ll find much, but you’ll have first pick of anything relevant.”   
  
“Thank you so much!” Lucy said, grinning cheerfully up at Fawkes in a way that no super mutant could possibly be used to. He looked beyond happy to have her smile trained on him.   
  
The cantankerous mayor rolled his eyes and fixed his helmet back on, prepared to get back to work. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you mungos to the monster den so you can get whatever shit you need and then leave us the fuck alone.” Like a weary soldier, he shouldered his rifle and pushed past them to lead the way, glancing at Lucy with a look that Addisson thought of as _mildly betrayed._ The girl followed after them, but it was Fawkes she was tailing, not MacCready.   
  
“Are you looking for anything specific?” Addisson heard Fawkes ask from behind her in their small procession toward the back of the caves.   
  
“Any medical texts,” Lucy replied, her tone bright and hopeful. “Especially surgery textbooks. Last week, Rufio came in from a scavenging trip with a bullet wound and I think I handled it okay, but if it was any worse it might not’ve gone as well.”   
  
Fawkes hummed in commiseration. “I’m sure you did a wonderful job with what you had. I doubt the secrets Vault 87 holds will be helpful to you, but I’ll keep a watchful eye out.”   
  
Lucy didn’t audibly respond to that, but Addisson could imagine that she was blushing happily, and, _god,_ _she_ almost blushed just listening to the two of them back there, talking like… like everything was perfectly normal. Like it was normal for a pre-teen to be stitching up bullet wounds in other kids, and normal for an eloquent super mutant to promise to help further a child’s education. It made her happy just to know they were walking side-by-side behind her, no animosity, no fear.   
  
Of course it made her a bit sad too, knowing that it wasn’t always this way, and knowing that Fawkes could be such a nurturer if given the chance. (Knowing that his very _being_ removed that chance in more ways than one.) But as far as sadnesses went, it wasn’t distractingly potent.   
  
(Dogmeat rejoined the group before they reached the gate, looking like he’d just had a nice little vacation.)   
  
“Mungos comin’ through!” MacCready called, when they approached the gate-guards, who promptly dropped their card game again. “Open the gate! And you,” he said, turning back to Addisson (and giving Fawkes a short stink-eye over her shoulder, likely for stealing Lucy’s attention). “When you come back, it’s four slow knocks and three fast ones, so we know it’s you and not one of those monsters looking for an easy snack.”   
  
He didn’t wait for her nod of understanding before he took position and aimed at the gate, ready for the potential attack. (It sounded quiet behind the gate, but maybe the super mutants had learned to be stealthy in the past few months.) The other kids who’d followed their procession in curiosity readied their guns as well, if they were carrying one, so Addisson and Fawkes followed suit. They all held their breath as the gate was drawn-- but the passage beyond the gate was empty of all but a handful of glowing mushrooms. Addisson gave the kids a quick salute in thanks and made her way into the path that would lead back to that fateful vault.   
  
“Good luck!” Lucy called as they retreated deeper into the cave, and Addisson glanced back in time to see Fawkes wave.   
  
“She seems to be a very kind girl,” he mentioned, after the heavy gate was closed and they were left in silence.   
  
“Yeah,” Addisson agreed. “Way too nice for MacCready. I don’t think he deserves her.”   
  
Fawkes was quiet for a moment, just the sound of his heavy breath a few steps behind her. “Maybe not,” he said after a long moment that felt inordinately thoughtful. “But maybe some day he will.”   
  
Anything was possible, Addisson supposed. Maybe the moody pre-teen would mellow out some day, though she wouldn’t cross her fingers. But if he accepted Fawkes already, then he couldn’t be too bad. She imagined the two of them coming around more often, and Fawkes’ mantra slowly rubbing off on the little mayor. ‘In all things, a calm heart must prevail.’ She laughed to herself. The mutant might be good with kids, but teaching MacCready that lesson would probably be like pulling teeth.   
  
Well. That was a problem for the future. For now they had to be prepared to deal with Fawkes’ unfortunate brethren, and the equally uncomfortable research they were guarding. If they found what they were looking for, maybe _then_ they could think about becoming mentors for the wayward Lamplighters. If they didn’t? Well, who knew? Maybe MacCready would bend the rules and let them move in. 


	3. Chapter 3

For all that Addisson apparently excelled at it, she never particularly liked killing. Hunting, sure, maybe. There was definitely a satisfaction factor to sniping prey or an enemy from a safe distance, especially if you were going to make a meal out of it later. But killing still put her ill at ease, especially anything that might-could be called an any _one._

Super mutants were definitely among these and, despite their aggression towards her, she hadn't liked killing them even before she unfortunately began seeing the mirrored reflection of her best friend in their faces. Now the whole process was uncomfortable, from start to finish. She saw their hulking green forms; she didn't want to shoot them. She put a bullet through their heads; she wanted to look away. The smart thing to do was loot them for ammo; she cringed the whole time, tried to stay removed from herself. She moved on to the next one; rinse, repeat. 

At least most of them didn't wear shirts. That was something. 

Down in Vault 87's narrow hallways, Addisson's sniper rifle was nearly useless, but it did make a marked difference from sneaking through downtown DC. She couldn't avoid getting up close and personal with the mutants, but that made their fights too frantic for her to really have the time to think of their resemblance to Fawkes. The fact that he was jammed up right behind her helped, his loud clear voice filling her head. It was _like_ his brothers' voices, but so distinct in its practice and care, and full of emotions she didn't think the others could recognize if their lives depended on it. 

Even so, she still hated killing them, so she sighed heavily in relief when they cleared the place out with little effort. (And thank _god_ none of them had brought their pet monstrosities with them.) Then it was just a matter of sorting through all the accumulated filth in hopes of finding the research that this place had originally devoted itself to, before its inhabitants forgot how to read. 

Unfortunately, that was a much taller order than the haphazard murder of a dozen mutants. At least the mutants made their presence known. 

"I hated homework, back in the vault," Addisson grumbled as she sat cross-legged on a less disgusting patch of floor in the room where Fawkes was digging through files on a terminal. She had a stack of documents and a few text books and she was _trying_ to wrap her head around all the deep-science jargon to see if anything was relevant but it was such a _slog._ "This is actually worse." 

Fawkes didn't respond, and she thought it might have been because he was busy taking in the data that he clearly had a better understanding of, but it might have also just been that he knew she was simply whining. She sighed and threw the current report into the sizable 'probably not relevant' pile at her feet, and moved on to the next one, which warranted being stuffed in her backpack for further perusal in better lighting. 

Because neither of them knew exactly what they were looking for, they agreed to take anything that mentioned FEV. Currently Addisson had several pounds of papers, and last she'd checked Fawkes had downloaded 17 documents to her Pip-boy. He was sorting through the networked terminal with a singleminded focus that she guessed was how he'd stayed sane that whole time, but _she_ was quickly losing steam. She looked at her 'unsorted' stack, and then she looked at him, and her irritation deflated. They weren't here for kicks; for his sake she was willing to focus on this for as long as she needed to. 

It ended up being nearly half a day. They stopped for meals twice before Fawkes was sure he'd gone through every file and Addisson had given at least a cursory glance to every piece of paper in the vault. 32 holo-files and a backpack full of texts later, they looked at each other with weary eyes. 

“Whaddya say we get out of this hellhole?” Addisson suggested, standing up to stretch and feeling something pop somewhere deep in her back.   
  
“Agreed,” Fawkes said, returning her Pip-boy to her, full of new data that she really didn’t want to look at. “Let’s return to the real world.”   
  
Short of asking, Addisson could only surmise exactly how Fawkes felt about the vault; he didn’t voluntarily speak about it much. But referring to the wasteland as the real world was a pretty strong implication that he viewed the vault as some kind of surreal-- and probably at least as nightmarish as _she_ found it. Instead of asking, she nodded, gathered up their supplies, and wasted no time getting back to Lamplight.   
  
It was night when they returned. Not that they could tell from the lack of sun, because Lamplight was dark pretty much all the time, but there were fewer kids wandering around or playing, with the exception of those on guard duty. A quick glance at her Pip-boy showed that it was after 11pm.   
  
“I… guess we should head back to Megaton,” Addisson said, though she wasn’t really feeling it.   
  
Fawkes shook his head. “I don’t believe we should hurry back. Particularly not through the night.”   
  
“Yeah…” Addisson admitted, sort of glad that Fawkes was on the same page as her in regards to seeing their mission through. “I guess we could ask if we could--” 

“No way.”   
  
From behind them, MacCready yawned and stood up from his post near the gate. Addisson hadn’t expected him to actually wait for their return, but then she guessed maybe she should have. He was a cranky kid, but he wasn’t their leader for nothing.   
  
“Don’t even think about it,” Mac said, scowling at them, but with no more vitriol than usual. “This ain’t a mungo hotel. If you got what you needed, get out.”   
  
Addisson frowned at the mayor’s tight-fisted adherence to the rules (ignoring that he already had broken them for her several times). Weren’t they allies? Would it really hurt to let them sleep there for a few hours? She thought about arguing with him, not because it was especially important to her that they stay in the cave but for the principal of the matter (and because MacCready was just too easy to argue with), but Fawkes nodded at him in his typical amount of understanding.   
  
“Of course,” he said, and then with a quick look at Addisson began to rummage through her backpack. (It would have annoyed her if anyone else did it, but Fawkes got a pass on pretty much all things.) He picked through the papers they’d collected and found the stack they’d saved for Lamplight’s doctor. “Could you give these to Lucy, with our regards?” he asked, handing the folders over to MacCready, along with several heavy textbooks. The backpack was easily ten pounds lighter afterward, with the added bonus of making MacCready look like an overburdened schoolboy, harried by his own tardiness.   
  
She wanted to say that Mac looked a little guilty then, for kicking them out even after they delivered gifts for his girlfriend, but Addisson wasn’t that good at reading the kid. He might’ve just been annoyed at having to carry it all.   
  
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said, shuffling the books in his arms and clearly trying to look like it wasn’t a hassle. “Now just, get your freakishly large selves out of here and don’t come back.”   
  
They knew he was exaggerating about that last part at least, so they didn’t feel particularly chased out, but they did leave. Out under the wide open sky again, Addisson threw her head back and stared at the stars, breathing deeply. It was nicer out here anyway, except for the threat of radscorpions.   
  
Fawkes looked at her like he was sorry, but she figured he probably knew that she wasn’t _that_ beat up about it. “Unless you rather _would_ hurry along, maybe we should stay the night here,” he said, gesturing to the shack that sat out in front of the mouth of the cave.   
  
It was as good a place as any, and better than many; being close to the cavern meant it was routinely swept for radroaches or anything else that might want to wander in, though of course that also meant it was picked clean of any useful scrap. But there was a mattress in the corner, and plenty of light to read by, which suited either purpose Addisson might pursue. Dogmeat immediately curled up in the bed, and Addisson reclined against him. Fawkes sat down on the ground an arm’s-length away, and despite their misgivings about the whole ordeal, they got down to their extensive reading.   
  
She hated every last word that was written there, in those holo-notes they’d downloaded. The scientists of Vault 87 were not _cruel,_ exactly, but they certainly were _scientists._ They had so little regard for the lives and dignity of their specimens that it was sickening; it made her feel dirty and exposed. Most of the original test subjects died horrifically. A lucky few died in more mundane ways. Too many were killed when the researchers realized they couldn’t control them. The _really_ unlucky ones survived for just a while; mutated just enough to be dissected or submitted to various tortures, so that the scientists could figure out the next step in their evil process.   
  
Maybe it would have been okay, if things hadn’t gotten out of hand (though Addisson used the term ‘okay’ loosely. Obviously things would never be okay for the people who’d been mutilated and murdered). Maybe the scientists would have finally distilled the positives of the FEV, and done away with the hyper-aggression and the creepy homogenizing. Maybe they almost _had,_ with Fawkes. _Maybe_ he really was their masterpiece. But nowhere in anything she read was there any evidence of that. In fact, evidence of any sort was scarcer as the chronology of the research continued; it seemed like the scientists themselves had accidentally become exposed to the virus-- or maybe they’d run out of viable subjects in the vault. It was clear that eventually, no humans remained alive. She’d bet just about anything that none of them had managed to escape.   
  
The Pip-boy read 2am by the time Fawkes jolted Addisson out of her focus by setting a hand on her arm. She startled, and her elbow joint cracked painfully, after the several hours she’d been pouring over data on its glowing screen.   
  
“Perhaps you should rest,” he said to her, gently guiding her arm down into her own lap.   
  
Her eyes felt dry and gummy from the excessive reading and the late hour, but she shook her head, even though _most of her_ really did desperately want to quit. “No…” she droned, groaning. “I’d rather just find that data and be done with it.”   
  
A contemplative expression came over Fawkes as he stared at some point behind her. “Yes, so would I. But… do you truly believe we’ll find anything worthwhile?”   
  
“There’s probably _something_ worthwhile in this massive pile of gibberish,” she said, thinking that someone, somewhere would probably pay prettily for some of what they’d uncovered. She knew that wasn’t what he was asking, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer him quite honestly.   
  
Maybe Fawkes knew that saying the words was painful to her, but he was always the more honest of the two of them, and unafraid of the truth. “We won’t find anything to appease the people of Megaton. Not in these files. Not in all of Vault-Tec’s research. I regret asking you to waste your time on it.”   
  
“It’s not a waste,” Addisson said, and then she nodded sideways in consideration. “Well, I mean, maybe it kind of is. But it’s not your fault. Not even a little bit. And I did it because I wanted to, because I wanted you to live however you wanted-- in Megaton, if you wanted.”   
  
“I did enjoy being there with you.” Fawkes leaned a little closer, ducking into her space a bit in a way that made her feel comforted, like he was shielding her with his warmth.   
  
“Me too,” she told him, leaning in as well, until they sat shoulder-to-shoulder and she could feel that warmth through the ragged layers of their shirts. “I really did like it there. They were the first people to welcome me, after I left the vault. Y’know, _friends,_ after I felt like I’d lost everything. Some of them still are, I think.”   
  
His voice was very soft and low, loud for their closeness but a world apart from his battle cries. “I’m sorry I cannot stay there.”   
  
“It’s okay,” she said with a nod, though the nod was more of a self confirmation, because Fawkes was so close he probably couldn’t even see the gesture. “Maybe it’s time for a change anyway. I mean, I’ve never really thought of the place as home, and if you weren’t there, it’d just be a place where I store my junk. I can store my junk anywhere. That’s not the important part.”   
  
Fawkes pulled his head back from where it had hovered near hers, and cool late-night air rushed in. He looked at her like she was some kind of puzzle that all his learning had never taught him to solve, something in a language he had no reference for. She didn’t think he’d ever looked at her like that. _Why_ would he look at her like that? She’d always thought he understood her almost perfectly, almost better than herself. Why would he look at her like she’d started reciting poetry in French?; like what she’d just said was something incomprehensible that he thought might have secretly been lovely?   
  
_Huh,_ she thought, as it hit her like a gentle breeze. _Oh. Obviously._   
  
Despite his size, Fawkes was notoriously unassuming. Kind, _and_ never too hasty to come to a conclusion, especially one he thought might cause harm. ‘Shoot first, ask questions later’ was the wasteland motto, but it wasn’t Fawkes’ motto. (Yes, sometimes he did shoot before ascertaining an enemy’s motives, but only because he was savvy enough to realize that one of their team might come to harm if he didn’t.) So it made sense, a sad sort of sense, that he had not assumed Addisson’s intentions.   
  
Maybe she was making a mistake, assuming _his,_ but she didn’t think so.   
  
“Fawkes…” she said softly, leaning towards him, further into his space than she’d ever intruded, and thinking, _knowing,_ that he would never see it as an intrusion. The kiss was very chaste, but she lingered on his soft lips, no longer as dry or stretched as they’d seemed before. She didn’t want to think they felt _human,_ because that might be unfair to him when he so readily accepted that he was not, but that was what she thought, and it made her smile because it was just one more little thing that wasn’t strange about him-- one of the very, very many little things.   
  
It was not really a surprise that he kissed her back, though it was a relief. She had thought that he might have too many reservations, despite the feelings she was sure he had, or that he’d be too shocked to respond. But he was only caught off guard for a moment, and when that moment passed Addisson could feel his relief too, in the way his breath ghosted over her before he returned her very meaningful gesture.   
  
“I thought you would want to stay with your own people,” he murmured. She liked the way it vibrated through her; she didn’t like his assumption that anyone in Megaton were ‘her people’ simply by virtue of being human. By that logic, she may as well go stay with the raiders. By that logic, Fawkes himself belonged with his violent brothers.   
  
She butted her forehead up against his, gentle but a little playful too. “Excuse me for being corny, but honestly? All _my people_ are right here.”   
  
She thought briefly of her father, how the wound of his loss had still been so fresh when she’d stumbled upon Fawkes. She wasn’t sure if he was ever really ‘her people’, since she’d never had much chance to know him as an adult. It bothered her a little bit that she wouldn’t have the opportunity to find out, but mostly she was disappointed that he and Fawkes would never have the chance to meet. At least that somewhat evened the playing field between them, she supposed; neither of them could go back.   
  
They were both on the same page about that, no matter if Addisson could technically scrounge up some vestige of her old life. “Then I must respect your wishes,” Fawkes said, looking more than happy to do so. His face had brightened significantly, the shine of his small smile infecting his eyes. “I’ll build a new city for you. For us. Wherever you like.”   
  
“Anywhere,” she said, grinning. “I’ll live anywhere, as long as it’s got you in it.”   
  
Dogmeat lifted his head and thumped his tail on the mattress, looking up at them hopefully. They chuckled at him, and Addisson scruffed a hand through his thick neck fur.   
  
“Of course we wouldn’t forget your _other people,”_ Fawkes said in that indulgent voice he only ever used with the dog, the one that crossed baby-talk and teacher’s-pet.   
  
Addisson smiled down at their trusted companion, and back up at the partner she was more than willing to uproot her patchwork life for. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she told them, feeling rather like it _was_ a dream. There were still too many unpleasant details to be a fantasy, of course-- that they would have to face Megaton at least once more, come morning, and that it certainly wouldn’t be the last time that people thought she was crazy for prioritizing a mutant over a town-full of _normal_ people. But things seemed to be heading in an exciting and unexpected new direction, and that was dreamlike enough.   
  
Tomorrow they would have both good and bad to face, but now there was no doubt that they would face it together. That made all the difference. And until then they had the night, sheltered together in the middle of wherever.   
  
She scooted Dogmeat over slightly and pulled Fawkes down onto the mattress, nestling between the bulk of the two of them. For all the soft beds and solid ceilings she’d slept between in her time as wanderer, not a one of those rooms had felt so comfortable. She liked her room back at the vault, her house in Megaton, and plenty of hotels along the way, but right now this was her favorite place in the world. 


End file.
